Only At Gunpoint
by Completely Bunned
Summary: "As I lay there in the trunk of this creepy ass dude's car, I wondered: why was I always the one to save his sorry fat ass?" Kyman. Rating subject to change.


**Author's Note**: _I do not own South Park and its characters, with the exception of certain OCs, although I sure wish I did. Oh and for those of you who might have problems with the way this story is displayed, trust me, I feel you, but I can only write and post this from my iPad (no laptop), so this is honestly the best I can do. Hope you like it anyway._

**Chapter 1**

"You better drive in the right direction, fatass, or else-" I heard Cartman whimper like a pussy and groaned, frustrated at the fact that I couldn't see what the hell was going on in the front of the car. From inside the trunk it was easy to tell that the creepy ass black dude was no longer driving, and that Cartman was the one behind the wheel. I'm not even sure he has a license. Hell, I don't even know if he can actually drive.

As the car makes a sudden turn to the right, before just as swiftly going back to the left, I make an effort not to cry out in pain from basically being treated like human cabbage. My breath almost stops as I realize that Creepy Dude might be able to hear the muffled sounds of something hitting the inside of the truck, so I stretch my legs out all the way, against the trunk's limit, and press my palms firmly to the floor in an attempt to steady myself. Hopefully that'll prevent me from rolling like a hot dog fallen from its owner's bun. I mentally beg that Cartman's driving will improve before wondering how the Hell I got myself into this in the first place. I mean, I don't even fucking like that piece of shit! Why the hell did I decide to help him?!

Okay, perhaps a little backtracking is in order.

/K/

"Alright class, so today the topic is the United States of America and how other countries keep bitching about how they keep ass-raping others. Truth is this is a load of BULLCRAP, and they're just saying that because they're whiny, jealous fuckers who-Eric, why the fuck are you wearing that gay-ass sweater? Even a blind mormon housewife wouldn't wear that!" You'd think Mrs/Mr. Garisson would be one of a kind, but no. We just seemed to keep getting retarded teachers, even in high school, and Mrs. Tytees-yes, you heard me right-, was no exception. Thing is, she had a point. Cartman looked fucking weird that day, and as Stan, Kenny and I exchanged glances, I knew that I wasn't the only one to think that.

The fatass had his hair nicely combed and was wearing a light blue sweater with a beige shirt underneath. To top that off, he also had matching beige pants and black, freshly shined mocassins. The fat turd's appearance was similar to what he'd looked like years back, when he thought dressing nice would make me change my mind about bringing him to Casabonita.

"I'm sorry that my dress code offends you, Mrs. Tytees," he responded in that disgusting, sugary voice he sometimes used to get his way. No doubt about it, Eric Cartman had some sort of evil scheme in mind. "Would you like me to go home and change?"

"You wish. Now go take a goddamn seat."

"With all due respect, Madam," And I think it's at that point that I realized that something was wrong. "I really do resent your use of the word "gay" with the intent of offending me. I can most surely understand you disliking my choice of clothing, but it seems quite homophobic to refer to it as "gay", as if there was something wrong with that. I'm sure there is probably at least one gay student in our class, and that comment might hurt their feelings." _Eric Cartman_?! Wary of other people's _feelings_?! Of a _gay_ kid's feelings?

"Guys, what the fuck just happened?" Kenny asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd recently decided to ditch the hood every now and then, mostly when he found out that he was considered to be eye-candy by literally the entire female population, and probably by the bi and gay guys, too, although he didn't care as much about that.

"I wish I knew," my best friend Stan responded. It's not that Stan had ever been unpopular, he was well liked when we were kids. Now, however, in our group of friends, he had completely taken the popular guy title, bested only by Kenny. Tall and well-built, Stan was that nice, cool guy whom everyone just seemed to appreciate. Not only that, but he also rocked at sports, and he was part of the environmental and the debating club alongside his girlfriend Wendy. The two had begun dating in a more stable way around middle school, to everyone's relief, especially mine, since I was the shoulder to cry on whenever things weren't going well.

As for me, I still excelled in school, and I think I was pretty well liked, even if I could never compare to Stan or Kenny in terms of popularity. Still, apparently, I was cool enough that many girls still favored me over Stan the man and Kenny the sex beast, so I'd say I wasn't doing so bad. Only thing was, I had tried dating a few girls, and things never really seemed to click between us. They were just too nice, tol boring, too...normal. That sounds horrible to say, but it's true.

See, I'm the typical brilliant student with two close friends, who's also well liked. I'm a responsible big brother, and I have both of my parents to take care of me. In other words, I'm boring as fuck and recently I've been fearing that even my future will be typical: I'll get married to some nice, caring girl (but not Jewish, I've already decided that, although I haven't told my parents yet. There is no fucking way I'm taking the stereotype that far) who will love me back and we'll have two or three kids. I'll become a brilliant doctor or lawyer (still debating which), Stan, who'll be married with Wendy will be my best man, and there you go, we'll live happily ever after...except not really, because I crave more than that. I want adventure, I want someone to make me laugh, someone that will question me, challenge me. Basically, I want someone to break the mold of my cliché as fuck life. But hey, that's another story. As it was, everything seemed fine in my life, up until the day Eric Cartman showed up to school acting like the mormon kid we'd known in elementary.

Mrs. Tytees lookee as astounded as the rest of us. For a while she just blinked, probably debating on whether she'd been hallucinating or not. She eventually seemed to decide that this was in fact real, Cartman acting like a civil human being, and so she regained her composure.

"Listen you little shit, I don't know what the hell you're up to, but I swear I'll get to the bottom of it. If you think you're going to pull the same stunt you did last time-"

"I'm terribly sorry about that time, Madam. I know no amount of apologizing could ever make up for what I've done, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Either way, I know it's hard to believe, considering my reputation, but I've turned a new leaf now. From now on, no more evil, trying-to-take-over-the-world Eric Cartman, it's just plain old Eric." Okay, if this were a movie, the Psycho soundtrack would have definitely started playing at this point. And for those of you wondering what Cartman had done to Mrs. Tytees, she was a ginger. As it turns out, Cartman had just finished reading the book _The Perfume_ (one of the only times that fatass reads is when it's about a twisted subject) back when we'd first had her, near the beginning of the school year. The fatass then decided that he'd do a double win if he shaved the hair off of every single ginger he could find, invented a serum so their hair would never grow back, and simultaneously create the world's most maddening perfume so that he could enslave all of humanity.

Needless to say, Kenny, Stan and I stopped him before he managed to open said perfume and release its brainwashing scent. The FBI has the bottle now. I don't really want to know how they intend on using it. Either way, Mrs. Tytees' hair never grew back, and so she's now bald as an egg and even uglier than before. She's hated Cartman ever since.

Mrs. Tytees' face turned bright red at Asshole's last statement. She literally seemed about to blow up, and I couldn't believe that Cartman was managing to resist the urge to tell her "calm your tits" as he always did in such occasions. It was actually pretty funny when he did, too.

"Eric Cartman, go to the principle's office and call your mom: you have three hours of detention today after school." For the first time, I saw the fat turd blanch, which striked me as weird. After all, it's not like he normally gave a fuck about his mom being called by the school. To my surprise, he managed a quivering smile.

"That won't be necessary, Madam. After all, I wouldn't want to bother my mother with-"

"NOW, Cartman!" The teacher shouted. This time, Cartman seemed downright panicked as he started begging.

"Please Mrs. Tytees, be reasonable: I'm going to miss class-"

"I don't give a fuck if you do, now GET OUT!" She shouted. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Cartman began to drag himself out of the classroom, not leaving before uttering one last "Good day everyone, and sorry for upsetting you Madam". Okay, no doubt about it this time: something really weird was going on, and Token was the first to brilliantly sum this up.

"Did this really just happen?" It did, and as Kenny, Stan and I exchanged another look, I understood that we were going to get to the bottom of this. Even if it meant we'd have to help the fatass with whatever shitty mess he'd gotten himself into.

/K/

_Tell me what you guys think in the comments. I procrastinate a lot but if you all like it, I'll make an effort to continue. Also, this is my first kyman fanfiction and my first fanfic in years so, please go easy on me :3 And don't worry - I like to keep them in character, but the action you're all waiting for will occur sooner or later, provided that I continue. Last thing: I don't really know if this is too short or not for a single chapter, so feel free to comment on that as well. :) _


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